208The clock struck exactly noon when a knock came on the door.
Alice Wrexley sedately rose, straightened her voluminous plum-colored skirts, and moved towards the ornate oak door with the same deliberation that she showed in all her work.
The visitor was a young woman. Not attractive – not exactly, Mrs. Wrexley thought, observing her casually as she led her to the seat in front of her the study's desk. Wispy dark curls escaped from her single braid; she was small and slight, and huge blue eyes with long, dark lashes would have rendered her almost fairy-like if not for her entirely stubborn chin and rather strong nose. She wasn't attractive – but there was something about her that the middle-aged woman liked immediately.
"I hope you could find the place all right?" Alice Wrexley asked solicitously.
"Oh, yes," she replied in a pleasant, clear voice, low for a woman. "Your directions were perfect."
"Thank you, dear. I am Mrs. Wrexley. Coffee?" Without waiting for an answer – she knew these modern women, they would never admit that they were thirsty – she pushed forward a comfortable-looking mug full of sweet-smelling coffee. "I've already made it. You can't refuse."
"Thank you." She sat and sipped her drink. Mrs. Wrexley thought approvingly that they weren't delicate, tiny sips either – they were wholesome swallows. This one wasn't a delicate featherhead – she would be able to control the children.
"You are Clarissa Halling?"
"Yes, ma'am." She spoke with confidence.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-one."
"You wrote that you had experience with young children?"
"Yes, ma'am. I had about twenty siblings to look after and I took a job as a part-time governess to a seven-year-old boy while I was in university."
"And what do you teach?"
"History, English, French, and maths," Clarissa Halling replied promptly. "I also know a bit of botany –"
"Yes, well that's quite enough for six-year-olds to learn," Alice Wrexley put in quickly. "You like children?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am. I get along with them very well. And they don't walk all over me, if I may say so."
"I've no doubt." Mrs. Wrexley had already decided, in her mind, that she would hire this creature. The other two applicants were not at all what she was looking for; one was nearly seventy and much too heavy to go running after four young and active children, and the other was young and much too modern and efficient for her tastes. This was the one – but it wouldn't do for her to be unprofessional.
"Do you have a situation now?"
Clarissa Halling's vivid face fell slightly. "No," she said ruefully. "The boy I was tutoring moved to Switzerland, for some reason. And – I haven't been able to find a job for some time. I just left university – I studied literature. I – need a job, ma'am. My parents died a year ago and I had to pay my way through my last year, so I'm – well, to put it plainly, I'm flat broke." She spoke very frankly and Alice Wrexley was a compassionate woman who had already noticed the gray and very worn suit that had been carefully mended many times.
"I see. My dear, I ought not to be confiding this to you, but quite frankly, you might be the answer to everything. The other applicants to this job were unsatisfactory, to say the least."
The young woman's face suddenly flushed with excitement. "Do you – will I – am I it?" she breathed incoherently.
"As far as I am concerned, yes. Of course, I shall have to consult my employer." Suddenly, she was struck by an idea – a very roguish idea – but it might possibly work –
Feeling suddenly much younger and mischievous, Alice Wrexley said demurely, "He is quite a busy man, Mr. Ferrars is."
"Yes?" There was friendly curiosity in Clarissa's eyes.
"Only twenty-six, I believe," she mentioned offhandedly. "You know, my dear, I was the nanny, but my sister passed away and left me a monstrous estate that I am compelled to take over. I love the children, but there's no way I can wiggle out of this one."
"What are they like?"
"The children? Oh, sweet. You'll get along with them, all right. The six-year-old twins are whom you'll tutor – they are Teresa and Felicity. Then Sophia is almost four – and then there is two-year-old Matthew. You do know how to take care of babies, right?"
"Oh, yes. I'm very experienced for someone who's never had any."
"Tessa – as we call Teresa – is chock-full of more than her original sin, but she's always very penitent. She's a duck. And Lissy, or Felicity, is an angel. Sophia is too young to tell, but she's active enough – you'll have your hands full keeping her from all the places she shouldn't be. Maffy is what we call the baby, bless his heart, and he's also an angel."
"They sound delightful."
"Yes. Their mother is dead, you know."
Clarissa drew in her breath and looked genuinely sympathetic. "Oh, that's awful," she cried.
"Two years ago, from birthing complications. Annette was a nice little creature – astoundingly beautiful. You'll find that Sophia takes after her. The others don't, a bit, but they're all very good-looking also – Daniel Ferrars is, you know."
"I see," Clarissa said, glancing at her with laughter in her eyes.
"I don't see why you shouldn't take the job, anyway," Alice Wrexley said contemplatively. "I will give you some money to buy yourself a governess uniform – oh yes," she said severely in response to Clarissa's protest, "you must have a uniform. Four new outfits should do the trick. Mr. Ferrars insists on uniformity." In truth, she was just saying that as a tactful way of giving Miss Halling enough money to buy some much-needed clothes, if she was to be the judge of anything. "If I asked you to come up to the house Wednesday – that's day after tomorrow – after luncheon – say two o'clock – you might meet Mr. Ferrars. Is that all right?"
"That's wonderful. Thank you ever so much, Mrs. Wrexley. I'll be there. Oh, thank you!"
She rose, shook the benevolent woman's hand, and left with a jubilant expression. Alice Wrexley was equally pleased, for her beloved children would be under good care with Clarissa Halling and hopefully her splendidly devilish idea would come off.
A/N: The stage is set…tell me what you think! ice flyer